


Call Me, Maybe

by emilyshee



Series: Battle of the Blades AU [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Celebrity Crush AU, M/M, based on a tumblr prompt, battle of the blades AU, figure skater!Eric Bittle, professional hockey player!Jack Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyshee/pseuds/emilyshee
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt in which Eric Bittle becomes a famous competitive figure skater whom Jack Zimmermann develops a celebrity crush on:  http://imashippingtrash.tumblr.com/post/156136538485/au-where-bitty-never-stopped-figure-skating-gotJack isn't interested in a Falconers' PR opportunity to be on a reality show ... until he finds out who he'd appearing with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I haven't seen the show Battle of the Blades, but I watched a few of the available youtube clips to get a feel for it.

 Naomi calls Jack over from the doorway of the PR office as he exits the locker room after practice.

“No, no, we can walk and talk,” she says, when he moves to come in, and she leads the way towards the parking garage.  “I just need a quick yes-or-no right now, but if it’s yes, there’ll be some follow up later.  The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation just contacted the office with a rather interesting proposal.  They have a rather … unique project coming up involving figure skaters and hockey players.”

“Well.  They’ll never beat Battle of the Blades, eh?”

Naomi startles slightly.  “So you’re already familiar with it.”

“I’m familiar with it being cancelled,” Jack says, recalling the reality show where hockey players (mostly retired, but some current) were given a crash-course in figure skating and matched with a real pair skater for a several week long dancing-with-the-stars type competition.  His dad had started watching it to laugh at the players he knew face-planting as they tried to skate with a toe-pick, but they’d both gotten weirdly into it.

“They’re bringing it back.  Apparently they think there’s enough social media interest in hockey right now that they could attract an international audience on a digital platform.”

“It’ll still be on TV, though right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“That’s great news.  Send the invite on to Tater he’ll be thrilled.”

They’ve reached the elevator by now, and Jack calls one up from the parking deck.

“They’re more interested in you,” Naomi says

“Yeah? I’ll be happy to do some publicity bits about watching the show or cheering on the guys, but reality shows really aren’t my thing, eh?”

“They were hoping for the diversity angle,” Naomi continues, and Jack nods.  (He’s had to turn down more requests since he publicly came out as bi than when he became the second Zimmermann to win a Stanley Cup.) “They were actually hoping to pair you with a male skater.  It would be the first-”

“Definitely not,” Jack interrupts, “The last thing anyone needs is me being involved in a cheap gimmick.”

“There’s no need to call it that,” Naomi says, but she’s already making note of his refusal and turning away as the elevator dings, “They said Eric Bittle’s already agreed.”

Jack’s not sure what his face does, but his hand has slammed on the elevator door, keeping it open, before he knows what his response is.  Did she know to use that name?  He doesn’t see how she could, he’s never mentioned Eric Bittle in public before.  He tries to look casual.

“I’m sure Tater’d be happy to skate with him,” Jack says carefully, “But they’d probably only be interested in pairing him with an out player?”

“I would assume so.  They didn’t specify.”

Jack pauses.

“It’s still a ‘no.’  But, uh, feel free to give my number to Bittle’s people if they want to talk about why?”

* * *

The thing is that Jack’s always watched the Olympics, all of them.  Whether he was interested in the sport or not, if it was on TV whenever the hockey games weren’t, Jack was watching it and cheering for Canada and getting teary when someone from a country the size of Rhode Island secured their nation’s first ever bronze.  It’s what you do.  So he’s known who Eric Bittle is since Sochi, when Jack was still in college, and they’d been in PyeongChang at the same time back in 2018, though their paths had never crossed.  It was during PyeongChang, though, that he managed to hear about Eric Bittle’s baking vlog and how, in the run-up to the Games, he had turned it into a guide to meal-plan approved recipes fit for Olympic athlete training because “Lord knows I love watching other people enjoy my food but if I have to bake another pie that I’m not allowed to eat …”  It was just a bit of the fluff publicity that circulated around during the Games, but this one caused a bit of a stir among the athletes, a bunch of whom posted reaction videos of themselves trying out one of the recipes.  When Jack got home he’d realized that his apartment had a great kitchen that he’d almost never used with a similar meal plan taped to his own fridge and he’d thought - why not?

And for the first couple of months, that was all it was.  Jack would watch a video every now and then and try to recreate a meal - he remembers, in the beginning, actually being annoyed by Eric Bittle’s “unnecessary” personal asides and his assumption that a lemon zester was just a thing that every person had.  But eventually, that sweet Southern drawl had gotten under his skin and he’d grown to like the open, chatty style that had initially irritated him.  He’d gone back Bittle’s channel and started watching the whole playlist called “Diary Entries!” because he’d found himself genuinely interested in Eric’s life.  He’d bookmarked his twitter so that he could stay updated without getting one himself.  (Though some days, someone seriously needed to take that boy’s phone away.)

Eric Bittle was warm, and surprisingly funny, and openly and vulnerably himself in a way that Jack initially disdained but found himself growing to admire more and more.  He talked about the difficulties of coming out to his conservative parents, and how alienated he’d felt growing up gay in a culture that revered traditional masculinity, and how alienated he could still feel trying to date as a shy person who wanted something slow and meaningful in a subculture increasingly centered around hook-ups; all with an emotional honesty that Jack instinctively shied away from in his own life.  Following Eric Bittle was almost like having an online friend.

Of course, you can’t start liking someone that much, at least not a celebrity, without taking an interest in their careers and soon Jack was following men’s figure skating all the time and not just during the Olympic finals.  It was around the time he started watching close enough to distinguish a loop from a Salchow, and even count the rotations those announcers were always talking about, that he started noticing things about Eric Bittle.  The beauty and power with which he skates, for example.  How big and expressive his eyes are.  That little hitch in his voice when one of his vlog fans asks a tough question and everything about him would suddenly get even softer with a gentle, “Oh, honey.”  That cocky little smile he flashes when he lands a jump perfectly, and how that’s different from the warm, bright one he gives his fans and the polite-but-sincere one for the press and the easy, subtle one that only comes out when a camera catches him talking to his real friends. How tight the skating costumes are.  How his butt looks in the tight skating costume.  How his _thighs_ look in the skating costumes, and in those tiny shorts he shows off on his social media, god, you could strangle a man between those thighs.  (Not a bad way to go.)  The quality of his step sequences and how good he’d look doing that while handling a puck …

Jack’s never been much for inner knowledge or self-examination, so this managed to build up for over a year before he even noticed it was a problem.

The thing is, he has absolutely no chance.  He knows this.  Yeah, he’s a rich and famous athlete within his own niche, but so’s Bittle, so that’s not impressive.  He’s, physically, very attractive, but again, so’s Bittle, and more to the point, Bittle’s surrounded by super-fit and hot people all the time and Jack knows how that both raises your standards and decreases the importance you place on any one person’s looks.  And in terms of personality, Eric Bittle is everything anyone could want and Jack is, well, still honestly surprised that so many of his current and former teammates seem to like him as much as they do.  So, yeah, no chance.

He could kick himself for not realizing _before_ the Olympics that Eric Bittle is the best person in the world and he should definitely find a way to bump into him in the Village.  He knows he’ll never get the chance again.  Yeah, he thinks that, barring injury, he can reasonably expect to represent Canada again in ‘22, but if hockey careers are short, figure skating ones are microscopic and it’s always been unlikely that Bittle would continue long enough to see his third Games.  (Impossible now - rumors about him retiring after this year’s World Championships are definitely true if he’s willing to risk injury for a dumb Canadian reality show.)  He had one shot to talk to the guy face to face, and he blew it.

The show doesn’t change that.  Being a celebrity with a celebrity crush is sad.  Changing his mind about entering the competition because it’ll give him a chance to put his hands on Eric Bittle would make him a pervert.

But he hopes Bittle calls him about it.

* * *

It’s only nine o’clock, but Jack has an early skate tomorrow so he’s already sitting up in bed reading a biography of John Adams when the call comes.  It’s an unknown number and he tells himself that it’s definitely not Eric Bittle, but when he accepts the call, he hears a distinct Southern drawl.

“Hello?  This is Eric Bittle calling for Jack Zimmermann?”

“Speaking,” Jack says.  Then he winces.

“Sorry for the late call.  I’m not in the country right now.”

 _No, it’s good, I like being in bed when I’m talking to you,_ Jack manages not to say.

“Yeah, I know, getting ready for Four Continents, eh?”

“So you’ve googled me,” Bittle says, sounding pleased.

Even though Bittle can’t see him Jack nods furiously, because yes, he would like Bittle to go on believing that Jack knows where he is because he looked him up after this afternoon’s discussion, not because he is a weird fanboy who’s always up to date on the public aspects of Eric’s life.

“Well, Mr. Zimmermann -”

“Jack. You can call me Jack.”

“Well, Jack.  What’s this I hear about you calling skating with me a ‘cheap gimmick?’“

Jack is going to kill Naomi.

“Not you personally.  It’s just the whole idea of thing’s a little …”

“The whole idea of two same sex skaters performing as a pair?”

It’s Jack instinct to back off, to say something vague and generic and noncommittal.  Something that cannot be clipped from the record and construed as offensive in any way, no matter how out of context it’s taken or what spin it gets put on it.  But he’s spent over two years imagining he knows who Eric Bittle is and falling hard for the person he thinks he sees; putting the mask on for him seems wrong. _You are not actually a hockey robot,_ Jack reminds himself, _You are a human being with opinions who does not have to speak in sound bites.  Just pretend you’re talking to Shitty._

“In this context, yes.  It’d be different if it was two figure skaters, who both know what they’re doing and can do side-by-side work.  But the boot camp never gets the hockey players good enough to actually do very much, so the routines are mostly lifts.  I’d just be picking you up and carrying you around the rink a bunch of different ways and … I’m not crazy about that image.”

“You mean because it would be extra clear that there’s a male role and a female role and you’re skating one while I’m doing the other.”

“Well, yeah.”

Bittle sighs.  “Dang it, that’s actually a solid point.  And I had a whole speech planned about ‘breaking stereotypes by avoiding nonmasculine activities just puts us in another box.’”

“Ha ha, yeah?”

“Not necessarily a good one, but once you get me going, lord knows, I can talk your ear off about anything.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

There’s a pause, but he can hear Bittle’s smile when he starts talking again.  “By the end of this phonecall, you’re gonna regret making me that offer.  But what would you say if, before we agreed or refused, we sat down with the choreographers, told them our concerns, and asked for the most equitable routine possible, given what they think you can reasonably be expected to learn?  So we can look over and approve it before we made the decision?”

“You think that would make a difference?  I mean, I don’t think I could handle a jump or a spin at all, much less time it with someone else.”

“I’m sure you could manage a few spirals.  And they’d probably have to cut down on the lifts anyway, I’m a lot bigger than the ladies.”

Jack makes a sound is his throat that’s meant to be neutral, but Bittle must hear it as skeptical, because he says,

“Ladies pair skaters are statistically the smallest in competition!  And I’ll have you know that five-seven is in the average height range for men!  Barely.”

Jack happens to know that Eric Bittle’s official height is five six-and-a-half.

“Oh, a colossus, eh?”

“Jack Zimmerman!”

“Well, maybe there’s an option we haven’t considered here.  Do you know how much you can deadlift?”

“I can’t believe you’re coming for me like this, it’s - wait a minute, there’s a hockey term for this, isn’t there?  Something that means teasing but y’all don’t call it ‘teasing’ cause you’ve gotta have a special word for everything.  Hooting - no, chirping!  You’re chirping me, Jack Zimmerman!”

And he has that faux-offended voice like he’s trying to sound annoyed, but he doesn’t sound annoyed, he sounds - completely delighted.  Like he knows what it means, that Jack’s comfortable enough to chirp him.  Something warm curls up under his chest and stays there.

“Haha, you really know your stuff, eh?”

“I may have watched enough of those Falconers’ PR videos to hear the term.”

“So you’ve googled me too.”

“I may’ve done.  But not today.  Back when you first came out and it was all over the news.  People make assumptions about male figure skaters, whether we say anything or not - but team sports, contact sports, Lord especially hockey.  That meant so much to so many people, Jack.”

“Euh, thanks.”  He shifts, uncomfortable.  “But just because people have stereotypes doesn’t mean you’re not a role model.  Saying who you are, talking about it openly … that’s not nothing.”

“Thanks.  That’s part of the reason I wanted to do this show in the first place.  I mean, don’t get me wrong - it sounds fun as all get out!  But every time you meet one of those young kids who just want to tell you how much you mean to them - Lord, you must get those too, don’t they just break your heart?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, they do.”

“And I heard about this show and I thought - number one, how much fun does it sound to try my hand at pair skating with a bunch of hockey players!  But then, number two, how much would it mean to my fans to see me sharing ice with these huge, hockey-playing jocks and have everything be OK?  How much would it mean for _your_ fans to see hockey players leaving their comfort zone and trying something this new without being embarrassed about it?  Like, they tell us we’re one thing, so we have to be all these other things too, and how great a chance to show that we really don’t?”

“With an intentionally silly _Canadian_ reality show?”

“Yes, with an intentionally silly Canadian reality show.”

“I don’t know, Bittle.  My concerns about the choreography are why I called it a cheap gimmick, not why I didn’t want to do it.  I mean, it’s _reality television._ ”

“I know! Oh my gosh, do you think there’ll be _confessionals!_ ”

“What?”

“The words ‘reality tv’ mean different things to you than they do to me, huh?”

“I guess.  You’re not going to give more of the ‘it’s for the children’ are you?”

“No.  You deserve to do the things that you want to do, not the things that would be good for someone else.”  There’s a pause.  “However, I _will_ say that my Daddy coaches high school football, and he always has his players learn a little bit of ballet during their season.  It improves flexibility and muscle control like nothing else.  Figure skating is _deeply_ tied to ballet.”

“Are you suggesting doing this show would improve my game?”

“It’s a possibility.”

Jack lets that sink in.  “That’s devious.”

“It is a perfectly innocent suggestion,” Bittle says, a little too insistently.

Jack really does not want to do this.  But Bittle made some good points and his voice is warm in Jack’s ear and Jack feels his resolve slip away at the thought of disappointing him.  He sighs.  “Listen, I am not making any promises, but … I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get an idea what the routines would be like before I make up my mind.”

“Yes!  Don’t worry about setting it up, I’ll arrange all the details with the network people.  You just let whoever calls you know when you’re available.”

“I can do that.”

“Now, before I let you go, do you have any food allergies?”

“Eric Bittle.  Are you going to attempt to bribe me with pie?”

“Jack Zimmerman I will do no such thing!”  Jack imagines Bittle’s grin.  “It will not be an attempt.  My bribery pies always work.”

“No, no food allergies.”

“Favorite flavor?”

“Euh … apple, I guess?”

“‘I guess’ as in, ‘I can’t guess why you would ask that, there could be nothing better than a perfectly made, no-frills traditional apple pie,’ or ‘I guess’ as in ‘I’ve never thought about it enough to have a decided opinion.’“

“… The second one?”

“Perfect!  So I can do a little experimentation to see what’ll get the best result.”

“Haha, okay.”

“You don’t seem overly concerned about the efficacy of my bribery pie.”

“Well, I already know you have no follow through.

Eric makes an affronted noise.

“Bittle.  Not once in this whole conversation did you even come close to talking my ear off.”

Eric Bittle laughs, and it’s like the sun coming out.

“Katya will have my head if I stay here chatting all day with you instead of getting my head in the competition.  We’ll have to save it for next time.”

Next time.

“Good luck,” says Jack.

“Thank you very much!  Bye, Jack!”

“Good night, Bittle.”

Jack hangs up his phone and puts it on his nightstand.  Then he very carefully places the bookmark back in his book, closes it, and puts it aside.  He pulls back the covers and gets out of bed.

He and Eric Bittle talked.  They had a real conversation where Jack didn’t sound like an idiot.  He had even chirped with him, and the line between chirping and flirting is very thin.  Jack still has Eric Bittle’s number.  They are going to meet, face to face, at least once.  Eric Bittle is going to make him pie.  And if the conversation with the show people goes well, and the pie is particularly persuasive, he may one day get a chance to take Eric Bittle in his arms and lift him up over the ice, maybe even holding him by the butt.

If Jack does a little celly right there on his bedroom floor, he doesn’t think anyone could blame him.


End file.
